Ready or not, here I come
by TotoDash
Summary: After a fire takes his parents, Toshiro is taken to an Orphanage under the care of a kindly Matron. But when the other children begin coming to her terrified, she begins to realise that just like how you can't make a doll house out of a broken home, some children cannot simply be 'corrected'. Chaos ensues, and the Orphanage becomes host to a far more sinister kind of child's play.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Warm crimson dripped sickeningly from the slicked blade of the weapon held aloof in the boy's trembling white-knuckled grip, what little was free of the viscous substance gleamed threateningly in the moonlight. The same ghastly red was pooling at his feet from a heavily mutilated body, terrified gurgles no longer rumbling desperately from its throat – those pathetic attempts at gripping to a fading pulse had ceased just a moment ago.

The boy was breathing heavily, his pale face flecked with blood that had reached up and through his snowy shock of hair, staining scarlet streaks. His turquoise eyes were bright and excited as they stared down at the corpse, a twisted smile playing at his lips.

"I told you to run." He all but sneered at the dead girl, a silent scream still ghosting around her mouth, face still contorted into a crude mixture of shock and terror. "You never listen, you've never listened." Turning his back he slung the axe lazily over his shoulder, as though it were merely a toy. "See you later, Momo." An insane laugh ripped from his throat as he stalked back up the corridor into the shadows cast by the moon.

Her once gentle, doe-brown eyes stared without seeing after him. Where half an hour previously they were shinning and full of life, at that moment they were cold and dull, fixed unblinkingly to a point in the distance.

Lily Mill Orphanage child administrative records

Name of child: Toshiro (Unknown last name)  
>Gender: <span>Male<span>  
>Age: Young teenage (exact age unknown)<br>D.O.B: Unknown  
>Place of birth: <span>Unknown<span>  
>Names of parentsguardian: Unknown

I certify that Toshiro is in a fit state of health to be received into the care if Lily Mill Orphanage.

**Notes**: Little is known about the boy and he refuses to speak of what happened and the difficult situation surrounding him, we thought it best to not pry or push too much as he may withdraw further.  
>He was brought to the Orphanage by the hospital after it was discovered this his parents had died in the inferno that he himself was found at the site – having escaped the blaze with only minor injuries.<br>Police looked into the incident but found no evidence of any foul play, which is good for the boy as it means no stressful intervention is needed by them. 

**Progression notes**: He prefers to keep to himself, avoiding correspondence with the other children as much as possible. While this is not an unusual behaviour, in most other cases it lessens and disappears after a while, however Toshiro still displays severe apathetic behaviour almost eight months after his admittance here, even going as far as extending this concerning behaviour to Adoption Days.  
>Not only this, but perhaps even more alarmingly, I've had several of the other younger children come to me shaking with tall tales of how he's frightened them, one in particular sticks with me and unnerves even myself.<br>"He watches us but he doesn't move or talk or smile and there's something about his eyes that feels heavy and suffocating but cold as well, like ... like he's ... planning something horrible, or-."  
>The young boy who came to me and sobbed those words became unintelligible soon after and anything else he said I didn't quite catch. It did seem however, that after that occurrence, a general feeling of uneasiness surrounded the other children, they adopted several anxiety issues and the one boy who had come forward with those damning words began suffering terrible night terrors.<p>

I am not sure these events are linked in any way to Toshiro, however it cannot hurt to throw caution to the wind and monitor him more closely.


	2. 1: 7 Days Prior

**7 Days prior**

The early morning sunshine blazed down on Lily Mill with a heat quite unlike any for at least a decade; flowers – though thriving – drooped against the intensity and wildlife sought cover in the shade cast by the large willow on the front lawn or the deep thicket surrounding the orphanage. The boughs of the willow were still in the stagnant heat while an array of butterflies and bees went about their business weaving between the foliage and landing briefly.

From inside, looking out of the windows, the horizon may have appeared hazy and unclear if it weren't for that fact that the curtains were all drawn closed bar one, which remained empty of life. The temperatures – while outside soared – inside were a comfortable level, allowing the occupants of the building to placidly, if a little lazily, amble about without too much care of the sticky heat.

The one window – curtains drawn back and panes flung wide open - was that of the library, where a young girl with mouse brown hair sat hunched on the floor, back against a bookshelf with her nose buried hungrily in a particularly old and dusty edition of William Golding's Lord of the Flies. With every word she was being drawn further and further into the novel and anxiously she nibbled at her lip as the protagonist began to slip.

She'd been there since before daybreak, perched on the crimson carpet, reading by flickering candlelight and adjusting her position every now and again to relieve the pins and needles gathering in her feet from sitting on them awkwardly.

Just as the pinnacle of the novel was approaching, a shadow fell over her – large and imposing.

"What are you doing?" She looked up with a start at the silvery voice and was met by a blank stare from a boy a few years her junior and unlike his shadow, far smaller than at first he appeared.

"Toshiro, you scared me!" Her scolding tone was met with a lazily arched eyebrow. "And what do mean 'what am I doing'? What does it look like I'm doing?" Waving the book, she giggled lightly as he fixed her with a scrutinising look.

"I meant, why are you up so early? It's Sunday." He replied deadpan, adjusting his gaze to the burnt out candle beside her. The girl sighed, dog-eared the corner of her page and inched away from the bookcase in order to lay flat on her back, looking up at him from down on the carpet.

"I wanted to read, and it's nicely peaceful before anyone else is awake. Is that a problem?" The challenging undertone of her voice echoed briefly in the empty air between the two children. Idly, as Toshiro skirted his eyes across her face, the thought that the fading crimson of the carpet went nicely with her hair caused a twitch at the corner of his lips to quirk them up into a smirk.

"No." He spoke quietly, kneeling slowly to pick up the book from beside the girl, who simply closed her doe-brown eyes and began to hum a tune wholly unfamiliar to the white-haired boy -the book however was one he had read and knew well. Glancing back down to her from the novel, he didn't miss how – quite unlike her hair - the slightly ashen colour of her skin stood out strikingly against the red; pale as porcelain and immaculate. "Isn't this slightly heavy for a Sunday morning, Momo?" The dangerous smirk hadn't left his lips and silent electricity lit up the sharp blue of his irises, lending them a feral gleam.

"Oh, you know it?" She piped, opening her eyes with a grin at his expression – gravely misinterpreting his alarming body language as merely deep enthusiasm for the book, as she herself knew how it was to be over-attached to a story and so paid no heed.

After a curt nod, Momo sat up delightedly and reached to prise the dusty edition from his fingers. "Isn't it just awful? I could never think about doing even half of the ghastly things those boys did." With an air of horrified excitement she pulled open the book and found her page, lifting it for Toshiro to view. "I'm not finished yet, of course, almost though. Only a few more chapters and then its finished. But the things they've done!" Snapping the book closed, she cradled it to her chest. "To be able to kill with such reckless abandon and hunger, like they couldn't stop themselves, like they needed the adrenaline to breathe. It's frightful to think that people – real people that is – could be like that too, outside of this place of course." A shudder spidered down her spine at the thought. Toshiro reached out a delicate hand, but instead of comforting the disturbed girl, he merely rested his fingers lightly against the hardback cover of the book.

"Oh yes, it's quite terrible." He breathed, transfixed by her distress.

"It's not just terrible, Toshiro. Not at all, it's horrifying! It's deplorable! It's ... It's heartbreaking." The waver in her voice only added fuel to the fire, as once more a feral excitement maddened his appearance. In one deft move, Momo caught the boy by the hand and clutched it tightly, alarming him out of his insane reverie. "None of those boys asked for that, Ralph especially wanted no part in it after things took a turn for the worst! It's such a harrowing novel, the damming documentation of a child's decent into madness and how easy it is for them – us too, it could happen to us just as easily - to fall prey to their ingrained instincts." Gasping, she released his struggling hand and pushed herself to her feet. "Even Jack – who swore that being English gave him all the humanity in the world – couldn't resist the pull of savagery and was by far the worst of the lot. It's very telling that he was the first to succumb." She finished matter-of-factly, gently pushing the novel back onto the shelf where it had come from, a neat little space under 'G' for Golding. Toshiro meanwhile rubbed her touch from his skin distastefully, before also making to stand from the carpet.

"It is?" He inquired, unsure how she'd arrived at such a conclusion despite listening to her words, albeit distractedly. Rounding on him, she scooped up the candle and began marching through the isles toward the large double swing door.

"Yes. It's the collected ones, the ones who appear to have it all together, with confidence and authority and a tranquillity that rivals even that of Unohana's, that you need to be wary of. When they're sane it's okay, but it's after that proverbial thread inside their mind has snapped that you've got to be careful, because then they're ruthless and cunning and dangerous." Placing deliberate emphasis on the last word, Momo pushed the doors open with dramatic flair and took a deep steady breath in the barren corridor, stretching and cracking her aching muscles and sore joints.

"Do you believe that?" He asked levelly. Momo paused her post-reading exercising to scrutinise him, a look akin to confusion marring her girlish features. The seconds dragged on in silence and still all she did was stare thoughtfully at him as he met her gaze blankly. An unpleasantly familiar uneasiness caused a prickle of goosebumps to pepper her skin. It was a sensation she was used to feeling around the boy and yet despite the gut instinct to flee his harrowing presence, she ignored it every time – there was no basis for the feeling so why on earth should she be afraid? "Well?" He pressed, pulling her back from her thoughts and back to the question at hand.

"Of course." She spoke slowly, trying to shake the tremors from her voice. Subconsciously swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she turned away to walk up the corridor to where she hopefully wouldn't be alone with him, absentmindedly wrapping her arms around herself as she went.


End file.
